We were back again in the nightmare.
That is what I thought as Taverner and I drove out of London. It was arepetition of our former journey.
At intervals1, Taverner swore.
As for me, I repeated from time to time, stupidly, unprofitably: “So itwasn’t Brenda and Laurence. It wasn’t Brenda and Laurence.”
Had I really thought it was? I had been so glad to think it. So glad to es-cape from other, more sinister2, possibilities….
They had fallen in love with each other. They had written silly senti-mental romantic letters to each other. They had indulged in hopes thatBrenda’s old husband might soon die peacefully and happily — but Iwondered really if they had even acutely desired his death. I had a feelingthat the despairs and longings3 of an unhappy love affair suited them aswell or better than commonplace married life together. I didn’t thinkBrenda was really passionate4. She was too anaemic, too apathetic5. It wasromance she craved6 for. And I thought Laurence, too, was the type to en-joy frustration7 and vague future dreams of bliss8 rather than the concretesatisfaction of the flesh.
They had been caught in a trap and, terrified, they had not had the witto find their way out. Laurence, with incredible stupidity, had not evendestroyed Brenda’s letters. Presumably Brenda had destroyed his, sincethey had not been found. And it was not Laurence who had balanced themarble doorstop on the washhouse door. It was someone else whose facewas still hidden behind a mask.
We drove up to the door. Taverner got out and I followed him. Therewas a plain clothes man in the hall whom I didn’t know. He saluted9 Tav-erner and Taverner drew him aside.
My attention was taken by a pile of luggage in the hall. It was labelledand ready for departure. As I looked at it Clemency10 came down the stairsand through the open door at the bottom. She was dressed in her same reddress with a tweed coat over it and a red felt hat.
“You’re in time to say goodbye, Charles,” she said.
“You’re leaving?”
“We go to London tonight. Our plane goes early tomorrow morning.”
She was quiet and smiling, but I thought her eyes were watchful11.
“But surely you can’t go now?”
“Why not?” Her voice was hard.
“With this death—”
“Nannie’s death has nothing to do with us.”
“Perhaps not. But all the same—”
“Why do you say ‘perhaps not’? It has nothing to do with us. Roger and Ihave been upstairs, finishing packing up. We did not come down at allduring the time that the cocoa was left on the hall table.”
“Can you prove that?”
“I can answer for Roger. And Roger can answer for me.”
“No more than that … You’re man and wife, remember.”
Her anger flamed out.
“You’re impossible, Charles! Roger and I are going away—to lead ourown life. Why on earth should we want to poison a nice stupid old womanwho had never done us any harm?”
“It mightn’t have been her you meant to poison.”
“Still less are we likely to poison a child.”
“It depends rather on the child, doesn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Josephine isn’t quite the ordinary child. She knows a good deal aboutpeople. She—”
I broke off. Josephine had emerged from the door leading to the draw-ing room. She was eating the inevitable12 apple, and over its round rosinessher eyes sparkled with a kind of ghoulish enjoyment13.
“Nannie’s been poisoned,” she said. “Just like grandfather. It’s awfullyexciting, isn’t it?”
“Aren’t you at all upset about it?” I demanded severely14. “You were fondof her, weren’t you?”
“Not particularly. She was always scolding me about something orother. She fussed.”
“Are you fond of anybody, Josephine?” asked Clemency.
Josephine turned her ghoulish eyes towards Clemency.
“I love Aunt Edith,” she said. “I love Aunt Edith very much. And I couldlove Eustace, only he’s always such a beast to me and won’t be interestedin finding out who did all this.”
“You’d better stop finding things out, Josephine,” I said. “It isn’t verysafe.”
“I don’t need to find out any more,” said Josephine. “I know.”
There was a moment’s silence. Josephine’s eyes, solemn and unwinking,were fixed15 on Clemency. A sound like a long sigh reached my ears. Iswung sharply round. Edith de Haviland stood halfway16 down the staircase—but I did not think it was she who had sighed. The sound had come frombehind the door through which Josephine had just come.
I stepped sharply across to it and yanked it open. There was no one to beseen.
Nevertheless I was seriously disturbed. Someone had stood just withinthat door and had heard those words of Josephine’s. I went back and tookJosephine by the arm. She was eating her apple and staring stolidly17 atClemency. Behind the solemnity there was, I thought, a certain malignantsatisfaction.
“Come on, Josephine,” I said. “We’re going to have a little talk.”
I think Josephine might have protested, but I was not standing18 any non-sense. I ran her along forcibly into her own part of the house. There was asmall unused morning room where we could be reasonably sure of beingundisturbed. I took her in there, closed the door firmly, and made her siton a chair. I took another chair and drew it forward so that I faced her.
“Now, Josephine,” I said, “we’re going to have a showdown. What exactlydo you know?”
“Lots of things.”
“That I have no doubt about. That noddle of yours is probably crammedto overflowing19 with relevant and irrelevant20 information. But you knowperfectly what I mean. Don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I’m not stupid.”
I didn’t know whether the disparagement21 was for me or the police, but Ipaid no attention to it and went on:
“You know who put something in your cocoa?”
Josephine nodded.
“You know who poisoned your grandfather?”
Josephine nodded again.
“And who knocked you on the head?”
Again Josephine nodded.
“Then you’re going to come across with what you know. You’re going totell me all about it—now.”
“Shan’t.”
“You’ve got to. Every bit of information you’ve got or ferret out has gotto be given to the police.”
“I won’t tell the police anything. They’re stupid. They thought Brendahad done it—or Laurence. I wasn’t stupid like that. I knew jolly well theyhadn’t done it. I’ve had an idea who it was all along, and then I made akind of test—and now I know I’m right.”
She finished on a triumphant22 note.
I prayed to Heaven for patience and started again.
“Listen, Josephine, I dare say you’re extremely clever —” Josephinelooked gratified. “But it won’t be much good to you to be clever if you’renot alive to enjoy the fact. Don’t you see, you little fool, that as long as youkeep your secrets in this silly way you’re in imminent23 danger?”
Josephine nodded approvingly. “Of course I am.”
“Already you’ve had two very narrow escapes. One attempt nearly didfor you. The other has cost somebody else their life. Don’t you see if you goon strutting24 about the house and proclaiming at the top of your voice thatyou know who the killer25 is, there will be more attempts made—and thateither you’ll die or somebody else will?”
“In some books person after person is killed,” Josephine informed mewith gusto. “You end by spotting the murderer because he or she is prac-tically the only person left.”
“This isn’t a detective story. This is Three Gables, Swinly Dean, andyou’re a silly little girl who’s read more than is good for her. I’ll make youtell me what you know if I have to shake you till your teeth rattle26.”
“I could always tell you something that wasn’t true.”
“You could, but you won’t. What are you waiting for, anyway?”
“You don’t understand,” said Josephine. “Perhaps I may never tell. Yousee, I might—be fond of the person.”
She paused as though to let this sink in.
“And if I do tell,” she went on, “I shall do it properly. I shall have every-body sitting round, and then I’ll go over it all—with the clues, and then Ishall say, quite suddenly:
“‘And it was you…’”
She thrust out a dramatic forefinger27 just as Edith de Haviland enteredthe room.
“Put that core in the wastepaper basket, Josephine,” said Edith. “Haveyou got a handkerchief? Your fingers are sticky. I’m taking you out in thecar.” Her eyes met mine with significance as she said: “You’ll be safer outhere for the next hour or so.” As Josephine looked mutinous28, Edith added:
“We’ll go into Longbridge and have an ice cream soda29.”
Josephine’s eyes brightened and she said: “Two.”
“Perhaps,” said Edith. “Now go and get your hat and coat on and yourdark blue scarf. It’s cold out today. Charles, you had better go with herwhile she gets them. Don’t leave her. I have just a couple of notes towrite.”
She sat down at the desk, and I escorted Josephine out of the room. Evenwithout Edith’s warning, I would have stuck to Josephine like a leech30.
I was convinced that there was danger to the child very near at hand.
As I finished superintending Josephine’s toilet, Sophia came into theroom. She seemed rather astonished to see me.
“Why, Charles, have you turned nursemaid? I didn’t know you werehere.”
“I’m going in to Longbridge with Aunt Edith,” said Josephine import-antly. “We’re going to have ice creams.”
“Brrr, on a day like this?”
“Ice cream sodas31 are always lovely,” said Josephine. “When you’re coldinside, it makes you feel hotter outside.”
Sophia frowned. She looked worried, and I was shocked by her pallorand the circles under her eyes.
We went back to the morning room. Edith was just blotting32 a couple ofenvelopes. She got up briskly.
“We’ll start now,” she said. “I told Evans to bring round the Ford33.”
She swept out to the hall. We followed her.
My eye was again caught by the suitcases and their blue labels. Forsome reason they aroused in me a vague disquietude.
“It’s quite a nice day,” said Edith de Haviland, pulling on her gloves andglancing up at the sky. The Ford Ten was waiting in front of the house.
“Cold—but bracing34. A real English autumn day. How beautiful trees lookwith their bare branches against the sky—and just a golden leaf or twostill hanging….”
She was silent a moment or two, then she turned and kissed Sophia.
“Goodbye, dear,” she said. “Don’t worry too much. Certain things haveto be faced and endured.”
Then she said, “Come, Josephine,” and got into the car. Josephineclimbed in beside her.
They both waved as the car drove off.
“I suppose she’s right, and it’s better to keep Josephine out of this for awhile. But we’ve got to make that child tell what she knows, Sophia.”
“She probably doesn’t know anything. She’s just showing off. Josephinelikes to make herself look important, you know.”
“It’s more than that. Do they know what poison it was in the cocoa?”
“They think it’s digitalin. Aunt Edith takes digitalin for her heart. Shehas a whole bottle full of little tablets up in her room. Now the bottle’sempty.”
“She ought to keep things like that locked up.”
“She did. I suppose it wouldn’t be difficult for someone to find out whereshe hid the key.”
“Someone? Who?” I looked again at the pile of luggage. I said suddenlyand loudly:
“They can’t go away. They mustn’t be allowed to.”
Sophia looked surprised.
“Roger and Clemency? Charles, you don’t think—”
“Well, what do you think?”
Sophia stretched out her hands in a helpless gesture.
“I don’t know, Charles,” she whispered. “I only know that I’m back—back in the nightmare—”
“I know. Those were the very words I used to myself as I drove downwith Taverner.”
“Because this is just what a nightmare is. Walking about among peopleyou know, looking in their faces—and suddenly the faces change—and it’snot someone you know any longer—it’s a stranger—a cruel stranger….”
She cried:
“Come outside, Charles—come outside. It’s safer outside … I’m afraid tostay in this house….”
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收听单词发音
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1
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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2
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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3
longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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4
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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apathetic
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| adj.冷漠的，无动于衷的 | |
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craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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frustration
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| n.挫折，失败，失效，落空 | |
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bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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10
clemency
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| n.温和，仁慈，宽厚 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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13
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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14
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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15
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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16
halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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20
irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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disparagement
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| n.轻视，轻蔑 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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24
strutting
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| 加固，支撑物 | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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mutinous
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| adj.叛变的，反抗的；adv.反抗地，叛变地；n.反抗，叛变 | |
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29
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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leech
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| n.水蛭，吸血鬼，榨取他人利益的人；vt.以水蛭吸血；vi.依附于别人 | |
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31
sodas
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| n.苏打( soda的名词复数 )；碱；苏打水；汽水 | |
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32
blotting
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| 吸墨水纸 | |
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33
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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